Forbidden love
by jeano
Summary: WW2 recap. mitsuiXoc. =)
1. Fleeting glance

Forbidden Love  
  
Chapter 1: Fleeting glance  
  
Life was boring, as usual. I had to help Ma take care of my younger siblings in the tiny, cramped shophouse we shared with six more families. Being a girl, I never had the chance to go to school. Such was life before the war. Big brother Rong went to the local Chinese school, Pa slogged in the docks, and I, Ling, aged sixteen, had to take care of my younger siblings aged two to thirteen. Ma supplemented our meager income by being a seamstress.  
  
Life sure was boring, but it definitely was peaceful.  
  
We had all heard about the Japanese invading Malaya, sweeping and taking territory like a fearsome tidal wave. But although we were worried, we still placed our trust in our British colonial masters, believing their promise to defend us from the invaders. Yet, at the same time, all those Caucasians were setting sail for their motherland. Were they going to leave us in the lurch? No, no, it was not so, for those were the civilian Caucasians fleeing the impending war.  
  
December 7 was the night, the night that shattered what trust we placed in the hands of our British masters. The planes came with dusk, bombing at random. We huddled together under an old but sturdy desk, praying for our lives. I heard the neighbourhood gossip, Ah Ma, tell her companion that all the British had were outdated weapons, and had fled form the victorious Japanese in Malaya, leaving maps, artillery and foodstuffs.  
  
And they had the cheek to call Singapore 'the impregnable fortress', and here we were, having bombs rain on us.  
  
Now, I no longer cared what the governor called us anymore. I wanted to get out of this place, alive.  
  
But how?  
  
*****  
  
Rong came back, despair written all over his face. Prices of essential foodstuffs were sky high, and nobody was even willing to spare half a handful of rice with his neighbour.  
  
I wasn't surprised. Thought the Japanese had not yet conquered us, people were not willing to take chances, and stocked up on food whilst they still could. It was every man for himself now.  
  
Pa was gone. He had joined forces with the British army in a last-ditch effort to fight the Japanese at Bukit Timah despite Ma's pleas. He never came back, and Rong was now the man of the house.  
  
Rong-ge was not yet nineteen, still a youth who was not yet ready to take on the full burden of taking care of a family. He had always been an idealist, but Pa's departure forced him to give up his ideals and meet reality in the eye. He had changed tremendously; the huge responsibility of his family taking its toll on his previously humorous and easygoing demeanour. He was now solemn and expressionless, a victim of circumstances. It pained me so to see my brother change so much.  
  
Unfortunate as Rong was to have his youth cruelly snatched away from him by Pa's departure, my younger siblings were the most pitiful of all. Their carefree days of play and innocence were gone forever, their playground reduced to rubble. Five-year-old Ming once asked me,' Ling-jie, is this a game? Are we playing hide and seek? Will the "catcher" find us?'  
  
*****  
  
15 February 1942. The first day of the Lunar New Year.  
  
General Percival surrendered.  
  
After he had surrendered, rumour had it that the Allied army vastly outnumbered the Japanese, and the Japanese were low on supplies. Well, it was just a rumour, wasn't it?  
  
The rabbit walked straight into a starving tiger's mouth, for absolutely nothing at all. (A/n: General Percival was called the "Rabbit of Malaya" for his buck-toothed grin while General Yamashita was nicknamed the "Tiger of Malaya" for his aggressive and daring attacks)  
  
Ha, ha, ha. Now we are under the ruthless Japanese regime. Things sure don't bode well for us Chinese. The Japanese invaded China in the 1930s and we sent money and aid to help our motherland. Due to that, the Japanese were reportedly even more brutal to their Chinese prisoners than captives of other races. At least, that was what I had heard from some Malayan refugees who didn't manage to outrun fate.  
  
Some Japanese soldiers came into our cramped and filthily unhygienic shophouse to make an announcement. 'No more Singapore. Now "Shonan-to". "Light of the South". All men older than 18 years report tomorrow at big factory east from here. No report, die. Japanese treat women, children well. No worry. See Japanese, bow. All clocks add 1 and half hour, same as Tokyo. Obey rules everything good.'  
  
Admittedly, our English skills weren't much better than theirs, but we got their messge anyway. Not a murmur was heard, for everyone feared the wrath of the Japanese conquerors. I secretly thought that the new name of our island was pretty ironic; we were going to step into a new era of darkness.  
  
One of the soldiers suddenly caught my eye, and our gaze locked for several seconds. He was a tall chap not much older than me with a head of short black hair. A scar ran to the left of his chin. His features were fine and chiseled. Well, in short, he was handsome. dashingly good-looking. I could fee my heart stop and my cheeks burn. He, too, blushed. I wondered if he felt the same way as I did.  
  
He was suddenly jerked out of his trance by his companion, who muttered something to him. The three soldiers thus left, but I noticed that he turned back to take one last fleeting glance at someone or something. Meanwhile, I craned my neck as far as I could, and watched his retreating figure until he turned the corner of the street.  
  
Perhaps, just perhaps, I could live in an era of light.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/n: Harlow. I dunno how you all will respond to this fic, which I think has ventured into some 'forbidden territory' in which sensitive issues are breached. Hmm. Just tell me what you think. Flame me, review, whatever. But I assure you all, this will not be a focus on the atrocities of war, but a romance between a soldier and a civilian of a persecuted race. Thanks. =) 


	2. Beyond barriers

Forbidden Love  
  
Chapter 2: Beyond barriers  
  
Rong-ge never came back. Apparently, the Japanese wanted to screen out all the Chinese men 18 years and above to ensure they did not harbour any anti- Japanese sentiments.  
  
This was Operation Sook Ching.  
  
According to a fortunate young man living in the cubicle adjacent to ours, the men waited for hours on end just to be checked by the Japanese. There was a large ditch in front of the massive crowd, and those in the front row who got pushed in had to go to the back of the crowd for another few hours of waiting to get to the front once more. The Japanese officer who examined these men did little other than scrutinise their faces and hands. If the person had thickened skin at certain points on his hand from writing, he would pass to the left and be loaded into a waiting truck. If the candidate looked relatively stupid and bore evidence of hard labour, he would receive a chop in red ink that meant 'examined' and move to the right, where he was free to go.  
  
Most importantly for the people who had passed was not to wash off the chop one received; anyone spotted without it afterwards would be executed. If one received the cop on his arm, he would not wash his arm or even let it come into contact with water. If one was fortunate, and had the ink imprinted on his shirt or any other article of clothing; he would keep the shirt in a safe place and guard it for dear life.  
  
I supposed that Rong-ge had been loaded into one of the trucks, and it was rumoured that those loaded into trucks were sent to Changi Beach to be executed. After days and weeks of waiting for Rong-ge, we finally resigned ourselves to the fact that Rong-ge was never coming home again. I shocked myself when I did not even mourn the loss of my dearest brother, but then again, it no longer mattered to me who died, as long as I lived, everything was okay.  
  
I grew selfish. I hoarded a little rice and sold it in the black market at high profits in exchange for the new banana notes, which would surely come in useful later.  
  
It was only four months since were renamed Shonan-to, but three out of my five remaining siblings had already died of malnutrition. Although I did feel guilty initially for being so selfish, for being the indirect cause of their deaths, I hardened my heart and told myself that I would continue to take care of Ma, Jing and Wei, until my life was directly jeopardised.  
  
*****  
  
I wasn't even threatened. Damnit, I was just taken! The Japanese soldiers reeking of alcohol said nothing but carried me off, despite Ma's protests. They swatted her away like a fly; it wasn't surprising at all, she was little more than skin and bone.  
  
I had little idea of where I was going to be taken, but I feared the worst that could ever befall a girl my age: being made into a prostitute to serve those bloodthirsty, ruthless Japanese soldiers. I definitely did not want that, so I screamed and kicked and scratched and called for help, but crowded as the street was, no one dared to help me. Storekeepers and patrons merely stared at me, a flailing mess of arms and legs, and resumed their business as soon as I passed; they feared for their lives; to them, mine didn't matter. I guess one of the soldiers found me too noisy, for I felt something hard hit me on the head, and then everything before me went black.  
  
*****  
  
I awoke to find myself in a small, rundown hut, its floor lined with a carpet of dry leaves and twigs. There was a small hole in the roof, and the walls seemed to be made of wood.  
  
The crickets were chirping away merrily outside; it must be night now. A man, clad in the khaki Japanese military uniform, was stoking a fire. His cap was on the ground next to him. The fire's crackling sound seemed ominously loud. Before I could locate the exit, the man turned towards me, his back to the fire now. I could not see his face; the dancing flames behind him only served to heighten my fear as he stood up, and approached me calmly.  
  
He took off his shirt, and I cowered away from him, leaning against the wall for support, listening to the wood emit a soft cracking sound with the increased pressure exerted on it. Each step he took made the dry leaves and twigs on the ground crack under his boots. Time ceased to flow as I squeezed my eyes shut, and prepared for the worst. Each step the soldier took thundered in my ears.  
  
Instead of what I feared, I was covered with his shirt. I was pleasantly surprised by the sudden turn of events and I looked up in wonder at his face, which was shrouded in shadow.  
  
A low, husky, totally masculine voice asked me gently and fluently in Mandarin,' Are you okay? I am San Jing Shou, or Mitsui Hisashi in Japanese. You were nearly gang-raped by a bunch of good-for-nothing alcoholics. You are really fortunate.'  
  
Out of politeness, I replied. 'My name is Ling. Because you saved me, I believe you are a good man.'  
  
'Do you believe all Japanese soldiers are cruel since you make it sound like I am the only good Japanese man alive?' I could practically hear him smiling as he said this.  
  
I hesitated. If he were the nice guy I believed him to be, then telling him what I thought of them in general wouldn't matter. However, if he were offended by my words, then my life would be in great danger.  
  
I decided to play it safe. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way, sir.'  
  
'Call me Hisashi. You will stay here and not move about out of this shack unless you are threatened by an immediate danger, like a forest fire, for instance. I will come here as often as I can to bring you food and water. In the meantime, try to learn as much Japanese as you can from this book here. This will increase your chances of survival in this war.' He tossed me a worn book, its pages torn and tattered and yellow, but the string binding was as tight as it could ever be.  
  
I was dumbfounded. Here was an enemy soldier trying to help me survive this war! I thanked all the gods with all my heart, just as a wave of euphoria washed over me. I. . . I can survive this war!  
  
'Pardon me for my bluntness, but why do you want to help me? I mean. . . I am a Chinese, and you are . . .'  
  
He turned his face such that I could see his shadowed features. I gasped in pure surprise. He. . . he was the soldier I had hoped to see for so long. . . and here he was, right before my eyes, and actually helping me to live out this war!  
  
All he said was,' Because, just because, you are the one. . .' he blushed furiously in the dim light of the fire, and then continued,' . . . for me.'  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/n: hello. Haven't updated for ages. Exams are over liao. Goot. Hope you all will enjoy the story. Honestly, this is my first romance fic, so do pardon me for any parts lacking. No, this will not be a lemon, and I doubt there will be any kissing. For goodness sake, I'm just an underaged kid who has never been in love! XP 


	3. Love or hate?

Forbidden Love  
  
Disclaimer: I realised that I forgot this for the last 2 chapters so here it is. I don't own Slam Dunk. Slam Dunk owns me.  
  
Chapter 3: Love or Hate?  
  
My head felt light. Did he just admit that. that he liked me? Although I did feel flattered that someone liked me, I fretted over the fact that he was a Japanese soldier, one who had probably played a part in killing Pa and Rong-ge. I was caught in a fix, not knowing how to respond. I mean, I seriously wanted to survive this war; I knew that with his help, I could. But then again, he was Japanese, and just 'requiting' his feelings made me feel uneasy, since I didn't really feel anything for him, and that would equate cheating him.  
  
'I. I.'  
  
He took advantage of my indecisiveness and silenced me with his lips in a kiss, but I broke it off and pushed him away quickly. I saw his eyes flash with hurt in the dim firelight even as he gasped for breath, his mind reeling from the realisation that I had rejected him.  
  
I turned away from him immediately, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. No one had ever touched me in this way before! How dare he take advantage of the fact that he was a soldier, and I, a civilian, to kiss me! But as I licked my lips apprehensively, I found that I had actually enjoyed the short time that our lips had locked, although my pride refused to acknowledge this fact.  
  
'Why?' he questioned me, softly. When I did not respond to his question, he grabbed my shoulders roughly, spun me around, and shook me violently, asking, 'Why.' with a growing expression of hurt and anger in his face.  
  
Tears welled up in my eyes as I finally admitted,' Because you're Japanese. we can never be together.'  
  
'Never mind all the hatred our ancestors shared; all I want is you. as long as we love each other, it doesn't matter.'  
  
'Why me?' I tried to change the subject,' There are many Japanese women who are probably waiting for your love in Japan now. why bother with a girl of your race your ancestors despised?'  
  
His shoulders slumped back in defeat, and he let go of my shoulders. He was a caricature of utter dejection. Did I hit a raw nerve?  
  
'No. no Japanese girl could ever want me. I. I am an illegitimate child. With such a dishonourable background, who could ever want me?'  
  
My heart softened and I longed to comfort him, and tell him that I wanted him as much as he wanted me. But there was a racial barrier between us. Could we truly overcome this barrier?  
  
*****  
  
Rong-ge, having gone to school, would always narrate his lessons to me, and teach me a couple of useful things from his curriculum. I could do simple arithmetic; write some words, among a few other things. However, the thing I loved best were the history lessons Rong-ge would share with me. I learnt about our Motherland's glorious 5000 years of history, her struggles, her woes and her joys. I did learn a little about the Japanese, who were depicted as proud copycats who claimed they were of a pure bloodline from their Sun Goddess, while there was substantial evidence that they were probably an 'impure' mix of us Han Chinese and the Koreans.  
  
Although I knew that this was possibly propaganda from our Motherland to instil a sense of National Pride in us, but still, as with many first impressions, this image of the Japanese stuck, and remained etched in my memory.  
  
The already unfavourable impression I had of the Japanese was further worsened with their ruthless invasions of Manchuria and other parts of our Motherland, as well as their victories over the weak British in Malaya and here in Singapore. It sure didn't help that Pa and Rong-ge's disappearances were indirectly caused by them.  
  
But all that changed when I first saw Mitsui. He looked barely eighteen when I first saw him, and his face and eyes, sad and solemn, nearly made me forget that he was a foe. During the short minutes that my eyes first locked with his, I could tell that he disliked war, and was probably unhappy that he had to draw blood from others, or die.  
  
My liking for this young soldier intensified further after he saved me from his rogue comrades who carried me off, probably to ravish, and yet did not make use of my helpless position to satisfy his own needs. Instead, he took care of me, and even gave me some of his rations.  
  
Honestly, although I did blush when I first saw him, I forced myself not to fall in love with him, for one of the things I feared most was that he would manipulate my emotions to blackmail me. The excuse I gave myself was that he was Japanese, one of a dishonourable family background at that, and that it would do me no good to requite his feelings.  
  
However, as the days passed, I found that I could not suppress my feelings anymore. Since I had many lonely hours in the shack, I interrogated myself as to what made me like him. After those long hours of deep thought, I realised that it was a combination of several factors.  
  
Firstly, he was good looking, and had a kind heart. Secondly, he was courageous enough to hide a civilian illegally in a shack (I assumed he would get into serious trouble JUST IF I was found. [touch wood]). Thirdly, he was a civil man, a gentleman who did not toy around with helpless women like objects. Fourthly, he was generous with his rations (which wasn't a lot).  
  
I was about to come up with a fifth reason while reading a "Japanese Elementary School" textbook in the fading light when the door opened. It was Mitsui, carrying a sack of sweet potatoes.  
  
He looked weary and worried. I gently prodded him with a finger, and asked what the matter was. He raised his bowed head and announced grimly,' I've been transferred to the Board of Torture and Punishments.'  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/n: Sorry for not uploading for so long XP I will try to upload ASAP. Meanwhile, enjoy this chapter =) Ja! 


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